


Picking and choosing

by Kasan_Soulblade



Series: Cut and Run [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Background Romance, Delia's well aware of this, Ever - Freeform, Gen, Neither Sam or Leo will act thier ages, Plots, Retired crimanals, Rocket grunts fail, Temptation, The Tower incident in pokemon Silver, epically, minor spoilers for pokemon black, police civilian tensions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giovanni was resting at Pallet when he gets a call.  Not through conventional means (terrorism never was conventional) but it gets through all the same.  How he answers that call can change everything.</p><p>Mild spoilers for the ending of "Two Paths to One End"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking and choosing

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely part of the cut and run series, I was going to use it for the ending of Two Paths, but when it wouldn’t fit in the outline no matter how I wiggled it… Well I decided to make it a standalone piece and spoil you with it. I’ve some plans to post a few chapters of “Two paths” and an au verse of it titled “Dodging Consequence” this is just a filler update since I have the wrong papers with me today.

Samuel always listened to the radio, it was the center piece of the kitchen, keeping company and competition with the microwave and set upon a rise of books besides. Said books were gathering dust, the cord was at an odd angle, the antenna at an odder one. But with this model (twenty years out of date when it was bought, unspeakably archaic now) once it worked you didn’t touch it.

Not even with the feather duster, despite Delia’s many complaints that it needed to be cleaned, the twitch of her hands whenever she looked at it tabbed on a not so subtly _immediately_.

Carelessly oblivious Samuel simply fiddled around with the sink, some brainless tune resounding at… well it wasn’t mute but it wasn’t loud enough for Samuel’s norm (skull splitting migraine inspiring levels) and there were no impromptu karaoke attempts with a spoon serving in stand in steed of a microphone so Leo didn’t complain.

While Delia might find such shenanigans cute it was a known fact amongst the three that Leo did not. Since the woman wasn’t present he had no obligation to stick about if Sam decided to indulge his increasingly infantile streaks of silliness.

Water rushed from faucet with a clatter that spoke of plumbing assistance needed (that or Gary’s playful Gengar haunting the pipes again) but as Sam hardly noticed the racket (much less noted it as bad) Leo didn’t say anything. He’d cooked after all, it was only fair that Sam do the cleaning, if the plumbing decided to give out well Leo kicked up his feet on the table’s edge and went back to reading.

Such cloy domesticity was becoming… well not a norm but a ritual those who shared his life with him insisted he participate. After… certain matters had come to head… well he wasn’t _quite_ the recluse he’d once been. He could, had, and while not often, he _did_ prowl the edges of Palette Town’s night life. If there were any under the table dealings with business and their book keeping going on, well what Jenny didn’t know wouldn’t hurt the woman.

And it hardly hurt his wallet.

The most honest of the townsfolk didn’t talk to the police about him, and he made it simpler by avoiding most of them. He also didn’t steal their possessions, assault their virgin daughters, or set his Pokémon to hyperbeaming people off the face of the planet when in a snit.

With a snort (because _really_ what did these people think he actually did when he ran Team Rocket, even his grunts knew not to do any of the above, it went beyond stereotypical and into the realms of stupid) Leo continued his reading, and since this page was done well… Flipping to page two he raised an eyebrow at a sign of Unova’s criminal stupidity. The not-so-legal nuclear power plant wasn’t a bad idea, but the technologies were difficult to obscure and…. Really? A Pokémon trainer aged thirteen had found them out? No notes on the child’s name, team, or type of damages on the scene, still the pattern was typical. The child had mowed through grunts to executive who just happened to be on site, finally leading to the capture of said organization’s boss.

“Wasn’t Ash going to Unova to play delivery pidgy to professor what’s-her-name for you and probably participate in the league in that region?“

“Yes, why do you ask?”

When Leo waved the paper Sam took the hint, turning off water and wiping down his palms on the front of a questionably clean coat before picking up the paper and getting to reading.

“Oh for Mew’s merciful sake,” Sam groaned. “Not again.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” Leo warned. “Has _she_ called?”

“No, but she reads after dinner not during.”

The foyer’s phone rang, and the shrill whiny ring tone Leo’d put in warned both who it was.

“Seriously Leo, you accuse _me_ of being childish.”

The older man was gone in a rush of flapping coat, dashing to cut off the aptly picked ring a ling rendition of “wicked witch of the west”.

“Have a pleasant upcoming call.” The ex-Rocket boss jeered, because really, Sam and Delia might not be formally together but he acted every inch the hyper devoted other half to each other. Thus Delia’s calls were cause for the normally placid Sam to race to the phone, as for the other side… Well he didn’t know but for her sake she better be treating the professor with the same amount of care. They’d have words, promise or no promise.

Picking up the pages Sam’s race had left behind he sorted what the careless professor had tossed down and went back to reading, mind running an internal commentary as he went. Seriously, the way this writer was going on the group Plasma, had never even heard of security, cameras or personnel. Rookies then. Shaking his head in disgust he skimmed over the information on the now defunct Teams preferred Pokémon, the mass use of the Ratattaian northern cousin Patrat caused him to more than raise an eyebrow. He’d never liked the lanky mice, considered them slow and harder to train. They also were so… soft… defensive rather than innately malicious like Ratatta could become if trained right.  

Well, whoever it was had done a tidy job of the matter. He’d have no comment to add unless it was Ash, then Giovanni would find himself with an awkward position indeed.   He’d have to decide what he’d say. Praise was an unlikely choice, between the inept law enforcement wanting to deify their out of town savior, and the locals adoration well if it were Ash he’d get enough of the hollow sentiment if he lingered. Since he didn’t (and had a history of high tailing it out of town after saying “you’re welcome”) the wandering boy likely didn’t crave that type of regard. Delia would (as was her prerogative) likely mother Ash to near smothering levels and Sam… Well Sam never said anything unless he was asked and wasn’t going to take that initiative with the excuse that it wasn’t his place.

Thus distracted by pending quandary Leo almost didn’t hear it. The click of static and loud beep of an incoming emergency announcement got the ex-rocket’s attention and he set pages aside. If it turned to be one of those false warning’s Sam would be buying a new unit and the pieces would be donated to Palettes small electronic curiosity museum.

“Hello… hello… is this thing working?”

And never mind the person on the other side couldn’t hear him, Leo’s mouth opened and the name tumbled out before he could stop himself. “Archie?”

A little boy, younger than Ash the last time he’d seen him, he’d been scared of the Rocket’s boss, clinging to his father’s leg and all bugged eye, the comparison to a Caterpie had been inevitable and strictly internal.

Reared on tales of Rocket glory and power, he’d been much his father’s son, rising through the ranks and part of the cell that studied the phenomenon of dark type Pokémon. He’d been across seas during the dismantling of team rocket so how had the boy even known.. Oh wait, the fire had been televised hadn’t it? And so had the funeral too, still Archie was a stubborn boy who’d grown to be a stubborn delusional man.

“Gio-va-nni.”

They were _singing_ his last name. What excess blood he owned rushed to his face.

“Boss, can you hear us? We did it! We took over Golden Rod Tower…”

And by that wonderful little bit of word choice they’d only take the tower, _not_ the town. Just the radio tower. First they blew what cover he had, caterwauling his _last name_ , on national… a quick glance at Sam’s radio showed it to be an _international_ station and then they had the audacity to openly tie him to a fallen organization. If he’d been hiding out in any other continent under his real name he’d of been found for sure. Found… or forced to comply with those repeated calls that, as they wore on, sounded all too much like a child mewing for their parents to save them from the monster under the bed.

He groaned, setting a calloused hand over his face to better blot out the world. Didn’t do much for sound, but in that moment to spite himself, he considered his options.

He could oblige them, spirit himself to Golden Rod City and take the place he’d abandoned. They wanted him back, some breathy thing in the back of his mind whispered. They needed him back. There was temptation in that realization. And if things had fallen that apart in a mere three year absence he _needed_ to be back.

Even as his feet tensed under him, that breath before standing, he stilled.

Realization, revelation, bitter bitter recollection. He wasn’t _allowed_ to go back. Ever.

Any discovered illegal activities would suspend his parley with the law enforcement officials in every habituated region of the world. A class red alert would flash in every police station and he’d be on the run from everyone and everything with any connections with law enforcement. He’d already been told the reward on his head -ten million, a flattering sum but a touch small, to his criticism Lance, present Champion and dragon trainer extraordinaire had raised an eyebrow and thrown in a complimentary Dragonite on the lot. - and he knew that bounty hunters and the members of the Elite Four of every region would be more than willing to kill him to gather the spoils.

Because the reward said dead, reward was only to be gathered if his corpse were brought in, there were no second chances.

“Gio-vaaa-ni… Boss! Boss? Are you sure this things working Prot’? It’s echoing really bad in here… Are you sure it’s not the PA system this time?”

A shame his Fearow, Fury, was in Sam’s care after a snit fit between him and Nidoking had left the bird poison needled. He wondered if it would break his parole if he were to borrow Ash’s Pidgeot for a little fly by hyperbeam practice at a certain radio tower.

Outside a familiar siren whooped and what little of the world he could see via the windows and darkening night was stained the familiar cycle of red and blue as the hues chased each other but never met in purple. With a Groan he threw himself into the chair he’d quit without realizing. Flipping the pages up pretended to be engrossed in his reading. Leo resolutely did not hear the pounding on the door, or Sam’s scramble to answer it, as for the radio it was dead to him. Well more than that, before sitting he’d spared a moment to unplug the monstrosity and wasted another moment scraping the dust off his sleeve so the evidence would be as muddied as he could make it.

Boots, heavy foot falls, a one-two near military staccato. He flipped a page as someone knocked on the door frame. It opened, Sam was leading the blue haired woman into the study and Leo made some show of first lowering the paper, than folding it just so making sure that only half a screen existed between him and her.

She wasn’t looking at him, not really, sort of through him, cuffs already in one hand; the other was clasped over her gun.

“Leonardo Giovanni, you are under arrest for enticing Rocket activities remotely and -”

And she didn’t notice Sam right behind her, fingers slipping into the coat pocket that held a Porygon who knew amnesia and thunder wave, to that the ex-Rocket bit back a smile.

“I beg your pardon?” _That_ derailed her, his placid, bored, yet vaguely insulted inflections weren’t quite as powerful as affected innocence but as she’d never believe he could be innocent… So he temporized.   “I’m under arrest for doing _what_? I’ve been here, with Sam, all day, and I haven’t access to any media save this.” Shaking the pages meaningfully the ex-Rocket rose an eyebrow. “You can check the cameras around the reserve, Sam’s computer history, and the pages of the paper. I assure you there are none missing, folded into paper airplanes and tossed out the windows.”

A quick look over the woman’s head telegraphed a stand down message to Sam, the older man shoveled both hands in his lab coat pockets, fingers still clasped about the enlarged pokeball. Well, that was Sam’s decision; it wasn’t his fingers that were going to be sore in the morning after all. They were perfectly safe because before the radio had turned on Leo had released Persian, the feline was a shout away and now that the normal type had mastered shadow claw and feint attack any patch of darkness could serve as a pathway for the vindictive feline to trail his prey.

Even an officer’s shadow.

Still Persian had nothing on Sam, who was nursing both an achy hand and a smarting temper at the interruption of a very important call.

“Ma’am, I insist on knowing the reason for this intrusion.”

“I just said…”

“And do you have the proper clearances, a warrant? Because this time you’re going to have to have both if you to stay on my property. If you don’t then the front doors that way.”

To enunciate his point he wave with his off hand and Jenny’s blue eyes flicker to the hand that was hidden, and hiding what could technically be considered a concealed weapon.

“Well officer, are you leaving, or do I need to fetch my Persian?” Leo drawled, allowing himself to correct his aborted stand. Setting the pages down Leo set his hands into his pockets. A rather unthreatening pose unless once considered what could be _in_ those pockets, the unspoken but very real menace made itself realized to the woman in bits and pieces. The naked fear in her eyes was delightful, truly it was. “Because if you don’t let go of that gun I’ll say I’m feeling threatened. But then your kind always are a threat to me. Still, we’ll make this simple, I’ll call it self-defense, and with a witness who’s willing to be psychically analyzed” Sam nodded his agreement. “ I’ve no doubts I’ll win any follow up suits with your next of kin. No fears, I’ll even pay your funeral expenses when it’s done.”

“T… Team Rocket’s been spotted in Golden Rod.” She sputtered out.

“That’s quite a distance from here. What one ocean away and five hundred miles on top of that?” Leo purred letting her feel each variable and how it wasn’t met and how stupid she was for not noting the obvious all on her own.

Figured Sam had to ruin it.

“Try two oceans and four hundred miles in elevation.” The professor corrected them both. “Officer Jenny, with all due respect, get out of my house and don’t bother me or my guests unless you mean to make something of it.”

The woman turned on her heel and stormed out, the scream of tires on asphalt was near musical to both men.

“Make something of it?” Leo chuckled. “Really Sam, are we both fifteen again?”

“Hardly. This is the fifth time this month alone. I swear, some officers.” Shaking his head, Sam leaned against the wall, never minding the bookshelf at his back and how it’s edges surely dug in. “It’s a wonder she hasn’t got a speeding ticket…”

“Your priorities my friend, I sometimes have to wonder...” Leo drawled. With a hand wave, revealing the gun in hand he quickly pocketed it though Sam surely saw the weapon the older man made no comment. “Go on, ask the woman out already. And no sea food, she’s allergic.”

“She is... I mean.. ah…” the professor flushed, stammered, and all but fell apart at the idea of a date, confirming Leo’s secret bet with himself that the man really was fifteen at heart.

“Sam, out” Then gently, with a smile to match his tone, Leo added “she’s waiting on you. But she won’t wait forever. Move. I’ll tend to Ash.”

“You will?”

“That way you and Delia can actually have a date,” Sam squawked at the forbidden word and Leo chuckled. “Try not to talk about the brat all night long, alright?” Then, just so Sam wouldn’t think he was getting soft, Leo tabbed on in his most menacing of Boss Rocket tones. “You can pay me later.”

A shove got Sam going the right direction, and mercifully he took it, nearly stumbling over his own feet, but he was going towards gone.

“Wear something appropriate for impressing someone Professor Samuel Oak, she might tolerate the rumpled look but I know for a fact that-“

“I don’t want to know how you know!” Sam shot back, feet more in control (Leo wasn’t a gentle man, it went to stand that his shoves weren’t either) the professor was eagerly getting towards gone. Actually it was a near run, the older man’s retreat. Only when the door slammed, did Leonardo Giovanni allow his shoulders to shake and let the laughter come and come in full.

As for the call, well that was simplicity in itself.

He didn’t even have to make it; his phone was on silence, only Sam’s had a distinct ringtone, but the vibrations of a particular number, well it was set to a beat once reserved to Executives and those few, very few within the organization he’d once thought of as friends. A flick of his fingers and the thing was open and set in its proper place.

“Giovanni speaking.”

A laugh served as answer, and because the boy just couldn’t be any other way, Leo sighed.

“Hi to you too.” Despite himself Leo felt his lips quirk, because the boy wasn’t there he allowed it to happen. “I’d be a bit worried if it wasn’t you speaking, considering I called you and all that, but then you did pick up so… What’s up?“

“Plasma, or rather considering you took them down I suppose some congratulations are in order?”

“Wait, was that a… a compliment?” A scramble and tinny echo indicated they’d been put on speaker. “Brock, Mist’ did you hear this, Leo complimented me!”

Two adolescent voices resounded chiming in with their own disbelief.

“I’m not repeating myself.” Leo growled.

“Figures.” And never mind acknowledging defeat the boy was still chipper, a click and the echo receded. Speaker mode was off. “So what gave me away?”

“The paper, which she’s likely read. You’re to call her when you get to a Center, I don’t appreciate being harped at about your bad manners. She always blames _me_ for some reason.”

“I wonder why?” Came the cheeky taunt.

“Brat.”

“Grouch.”

“How old are you again?”

“For the record, you started it.”

A snort, near laugh, as close as he managed most days. “Speaking of records… There were none in the official police reports about what type of battles Plasma put up.”

Inflection was a wonderful thing, turning such a bland sentence into query, threat, and demand, all at once. The gulp on the other side was audible.

“Ash… we’re not going to have the legendary discussion again are we?”

“No… well sorta… kinda?”

It didn’t take Ash long to crumble, all of two minutes of disapproving silence did the trick. Really Delia had it so easy with this one.

“It was N’s fault!   Seriously, he started it; well Ghestis started it first but… It was really really complicated and the region Champion wasn’t doing anything about it!”

On second thought perhaps she’d likely not had it all that easy. Still…

For just a moment he considered the radio, its call unanswered, and the call he _had_ answered. He stared outside, into dark, and thought of oceans and the Pidgeot he knew was all but right there. It’d be simplicity to round up the few Pokemon he owned that Sam was looking after. Taking one deep breathe, than another, Leo growled and paced to his chair, the one closest to a fireplace that was more decorative than anything else. Grace be hanged he threw himself into his seat.

“Simplify it then.” When that kicked up a babble of “he said she said” (well Ghestis did, N did), the ex-Rocket barked. “From the _beginning_ young man. Don’t think I haven’t learned from the Lugia incident.”

Settled as he was going to be he waited, and Persian, ever aware of a lap opportunity used his feint attack as a pseudo dark themed teleport. It was all very dramatic, the deepening of the chair’s shadow, the white form slinking out of seeming nothingness. Less dramatic was the chirpy “Meow” and the white form hopping from floor, over chair arm, to land claws first into the proffered lap.

Never mind Leo didn’t recall making that offer.

A quick shredding kneed, another pair of pants ruined and Persian was comfortable, Leo was seated, and Ash was babbling from a world away.

While not a perfect way to end the day it was a passable one.

He’d take what he could for now.


End file.
